


All The Things That Come Along With It

by ladyofdecember



Category: The Venture Bros
Genre: Developing Relationship, Drama & Romance, F/M, Family Feels, Heavy Drinking, Implied/Referenced Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, M/M, Mentions of Wariana, New York City, Set during season 6
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-04-02
Updated: 2018-01-06
Packaged: 2018-05-30 19:51:17
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 10,325
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6437974
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ladyofdecember/pseuds/ladyofdecember
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Rusty attempts to adjust to his new life in New York. His family seems to be doing a lot better than him. Their "new life" seems to include heavy drinking, boredom, college classes, part time jobs and rekindling an old romance once thought long dead. A new life indeed.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [tsv](https://archiveofourown.org/users/tsv/gifts).



> Written from a Tumblr prompt! Gifted to TSV. <3

“No one needs to know.” Rusty had muttered to him, not 10 minutes before, as they sat in the living room face to drunken face with each other.

The super scientist had been drinking and was on his third “Doctail” when Brock had gotten home, entering from the elevator. Their chat had been brief, mostly Brock checking on the boy’s whereabouts, to make sure they were where they were supposed to be and not in any danger or missing.

Brock had intended on heading to his room and yet, something had given him pause. The super scientist sinking further and further down into their couch cushions. He seemed… drunk, even moreso than usual tonight.

He headed back to the couch and sat down, asking the man if he were feeling alright, which had led to this impossible scenario.

“Brock… I am more than alright, I am… I am great.” Rusty slurred, leaning into the man.

Brock licked his lips, taking in the situation. It was way hot and yet inappropriate to say the least. The man, his employer, his friend was drunk off his ass. He couldn’t take advantage. He wouldn’t. He wasn’t that kind of man.

“Brock, maybe we should, head upstairs, since the boys are… you know… “

He gaped at the man leaning against him. So he wasn’t imagining things. The man was hitting on him!

“Doc, I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

“Why not? We’re consenting… adults.” The man slurred the words together and Brock frowned heavily.

He shook his head, moving to stand to his feet. “Doc, you’re drunk. You don’t know what you’re doing-”

A deep sigh. He turned to see Rusty staring down at his hands, neatly folded in his lap.

“I get it. You are with… whatshername? Warriana?”

Brock quirked an eyebrow as he stared down at the man. “That doesn’t have anything to do with it.”

“Doesn’t it?!” Rusty cried, staring up at the taller man. “I just… I thought that since you were back now… we… “

He trailed off, letting the words hang in the air despairingly, as he stared at his lap once more.

Brock turned away, wondering what to do next. He just wanted some rest. He didn’t want to deal with this right now.

He turned back to the man and sighed. “Warriana and I have an understanding. We’re friends. We’re… more than that but… it doesn’t matter. Her and I have an understanding.”

Rusty peered up, hope in his eyes, and something else, something unreadable.

Brock sat back down and looked deep into the older man’s eyes. “I’m worried about you and this drinking.”

“Why? I’m fine, Brock. Really.” He touched a hand to the man’s broad shoulder and then, as an after thought, leaned forward and placed his lips onto the man’s own.

They kissed deeply and after a moment, Brock pulled away, setting both of his hands on the man’s shoulders to hold him back. “No… you’re drunk, Doc.”

“This is right. It is. I’m not that drunk.” He insisted.

Brock stared into the man’s eyes before letting them trail lower across his lithe frame. He licked his lips.

Rusty leaned in and whispered in his ear, “No one needs to know.”

…

Laying back against the silken sheets, the man looked out of breath already and they hadn’t even done anything yet. Brock smirked at the image before him.

Rusty was laying there, eyes half lidded, mouth slightly open and pouting. He looked like he couldn’t contain his excitement any longer. He was eager and wanting.

Brock wasted no time in leaning down to capture the man’s lips, letting his own move against the smaller man’s in a caressing fashion. Rusty kissed back hungrily and let his hands and arms move up to his shoulder’s in an effort to bring him closer down to him.

As they made out, the sheets and blankets that surrounded them began to be kicked about, falling to the carpeted floor below.

Brock leaned down against the man, pressing his pelvis into him and grinning like a mad man.

Rusty gasped up at him like a gaping fish, feeling so many sensations overcome him all at once. “Oh… god, yes.”

“Still up for this, Doc?” Brock smirked.

“Yes, definitely.” He sputtered as Brock leaned down to attack his mouth once more.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Aha! I am back, inspired to continue on with this piece once more. Don't you just love when you get great ideas out of nowhere?
> 
> "In my life I never thought I'd get a second chance  
> I thought I was done  
> And then I met you  
> Am I always starting over?"  
> \--Always Starting Over by Idina Menzel

Brock suddenly lurched awake, from his slumped over position on their living room couch. He took a moment to take in his surroundings. He had been dreaming... about Doc? He was in the middle of the living room in their new penthouse. The house seemed silent and one check of his watch told him why. It wasn't quite so late that everyone would be back home, their lives all taking on a much later schedule nowadays and yet it was still late enough that the quite literal “man of his dreams” should be here.

The man stood to his feet, unsteadily at first, before shaking his head of the strange dream he'd been preoccupied with. Speaking of late...

...

Rusty is sitting in a hotel room getting drunk off his ass when his brain suddenly decides to think about the past some more. Yeah, cause that's really worked out so well so far. He's uptown on Broadway near Columbia in a luxurious hotel and there's absolutely no reason for him to be checked in there, not when they have this amazing, lavish penthouse now. After arriving at another one of those dumbass fundraisers, he quickly found himself bored with the idea of trying to get any of those idiots to look into his projects and left. He doesn't know why he bothered checking in to a room instead of just heading straight home. For shits and giggles? He has money to blow now so why the hell not? Maybe he just wanted to be alone... who knows?

He lets his mind think on the past, thinks about Brock and him and the great times they used to have just hanging out at home watching movies together.

Sitting back against the heavy armchair, Rusty sips at his glass of whiskey, a melancholy look playing across his face. He closes his eyes and lets himself slip back into a memory, remembering a better time from long ago.

Here he is happy. Here there is no strife, no grief and the familiarity of the memory holds him comfortingly warm and calm.

He's sitting on the couch in their living room, their real living room, back at the compound, idly flipping channels and not being able to find anything really good on. He hears the sounds of nearby footsteps padding across the shag carpeting to join him. He lets his eyes roam over towards the hall and sees Brock begin to pass by and so he calls out to him.

“Broooooccckkkk!!” Rusty whines making the six foot four bodyguard stop abruptly in his tracks and turn towards him.

“What?” he asks dully.

Rusty sits up straighter. “I can't find anything on to watch.”

“So what?” he shrugs, intent on continuing on his way towards the kitchen.

“So... I'm bored. Do you have any ideas for... not... being bored?”

Brock rolled his eyes and made his way over to the man. Snatching the remote from him, he settled down into the cushions next to him.

“It's like you have the attention span of a gerbil.” He muttered.

He began to flip through the channels as well, not really able to find anything on worth watching.

“See? It's not so easy, is it?”

The blonde murder machine just eyed him until he sank back under the gaze and shut up.

Brock finally settled on a historical reimagining of world war II, you know, one of those romantic “running from nazis” movies. Although this one appears to be heavy on the gore.

Rusty pulled a face, feeling nauseous from the graphic images being unveiled on the screen. “Can't we... watch something less gruesome?”

“No.”

“Come on... “

“No! You couldn't find anything to watch so we're watching this.”

The man was silent for a moment more before trying to subtly scoot closer towards the younger man. When he didn't seem to notice, he scooted even closer.

“What are you doin'?” Brock's gruff voice sounded, his eyes never leaving the screen.

“Uh... “

Brock smirked and eyed the smaller man beside him, before sinking down into the cushions a little closer to the super scientist.

Rusty smiled and settled in as well.

The gory movie wasn't so bad he supposed, not if it meant he could spend time with one of the only people in his life he could actually stand to be around. No, he'd put up with this action flick if it meant Brock was happy.

…

The loud, ear-splitting sound of his communicator watch brought Rusty back to consciousness and he snored abruptly as he jolted awake. His glass of whiskey had tumbled to the ground at some point. Unfortunate... that'd be going on the bill.

He was completely bathed in darkness now, the last of the dying light of the sun having disappeared what with night's approach. He had forgotten to turn on any lights in the small hotel room.

As he answered his video call, the watch's bright blue light burned his tired eyes, causing him to wince. “H-hello?”

“Where the hell are you?” Brock asked moodily, a cigarette hanging out of the side of his mouth.

Rusty cleared his throat, trying to sober up dramatically. “No... nowhere, what, why?”

“It's like 11 o'clock! I stopped by the banquet and you weren't even there. You don't report in your whereabouts, your change of plans-”

“Oh, please! What do you care?!” Rusty interrupted, angry that he was being treated like a child.

He drunkenly stumbled up from the chair and began to fumble towards one of the lamps on the nightstands.

“Are you drunk? Where did you go?”

“I'm not drunk, Brock! Jesus!” 

His bodyguard looked unconvinced, glaring at the blurry and shaky cam of the older man. “Right.”

“I... just stopped off at a little hotel over here off 153rd. That's all.”

“Uh-huh. And... why exactly?”

Rusty sat down on the edge of one of the bed and leered down at his watch. “Maybe I had a date.”

“Hmm... “ Came Brock's only reply. “Well, you alright then? You want me to come get you in the morning?”

The super scientist took a deep breath in through his nose, feeling more than a little lonely and disheartened by the man's apparent lack of caring. “No, no. Come... come pick me up now, I suppose. It's late.”

“You sure your date won't mind?” Brock asked, smirking.

“Shut up and come get me.”

…

It's the next day way after breakfast before Brock gets a chance to really zero in on the Doc to ask him just what was going on. After all, the man had been falling asleep the whole ride home the night before and this morning they had to deal with the boys eating and getting out the door both to school and work.

Finally, it was just the two of them, well... and H.E.L.P.er.

“So... “ Brock began as he sipped at his coffee. “How you feelin'?”

“Hungover. Can we not?” Rusty mumbled, hiding his face in his hands, his own coffee ignored next to the newspaper.

“Is there a reason you wanted to check into a hotel? I mean, the banquet wasn't that far uptown and I'd have come to get you in the car if you'd-”

“No! Brock! No! I just... I wanted to... “ He sighed, giving up on arguing. He looked the man square in the eye. “Can't I just enjoy myself, time to myself sometimes without getting the 3rd degree?”

“Fine.” Brock said, voice clipped and sounding like it was anything but fine. He busied himself with reading the morning paper, obnoxiously opening it wide to mask his face from the doctor himself.

“Oh, don't-” Rusty began but trailed off, sighing in frustration. Why did the man suddenly care what he did or didn't do? He'd been gone for such a long time and suddenly here he was, back in their lives and just... things were supposed to go back to normal?

He sipped at his coffee, anxiously watching Brock who was hidden behind the newsprint held in front of him. After a moment, he made a noise of disgust, causing the swedish man to emerge with a cocked eyebrow. “Yes?”

“You're really gonna do this?” Rusty asked in irritation.

Brock shrugged and set the paper aside. “You want to keep secrets, that's fine. Tell me, don't tell me. I don't really care.”

He stood up to refill his mug with coffee from the pot. “I just don't see how I can protect you properly or look out for your best interests when you run off and hide and play games in some hotel.”

Rusty rolled his eyes. “Fine! I wanted to check in to a hotel because I was bored. I went to that damn animal welfare banquet but they weren't talking about the animals, Brock! They were talking about how rich all of them were and how wonderful it was to live on Central Park West or some shit like that! So I left! I left and I didn't want to hear about it from any of you, about how I'm failing the company and letting down my brother's legacy or whatever. I just... I wanted to have a good time. I wanted a drink and... to pretend for even a moment that my life wasn't falling apart. I wanted to be back at the compound just relaxing and enjoying my life.”

He looked up finally from his rant and avid stare at his slippered feet to see Brock staring at him agape. “W-what?”

Brock poured his coffee into his mug and replaced the pot, walking slowly back to the kitchen table and sliding into the booth once more. He slowly looked up at the older man. “Look... I get it. This is all new and different. I... sometimes I wish that things were different too. But, time keeps marching on and there's nothin' you can do about that.”

“I know that, I know, it's just... “ He let his words die on his tongue, glaring at the shiny new table surface in dismay. 

“I got an idea.” Brock said with a grin.

...

Rusty settled back against the couch keeping an eye on Brock who was pretty attuned to the television in front of them. His eyes glued to the adventures of Scully and Mulder, he didn't even notice as Rusty began scooting over closer to the larger man.

It had been Brock's idea to have a “night in” as it were. No boys, no annoying scientists insisting that washing machines were the “wave of the future”, just the two of them. Rusty had been surprised but happy to have this small sense of normalcy back in his life.

They watched in silence for a while until a big plot point was suddenly revealed, causing Brock to shout aloud in an uproarious tone. "Yes! I knew it! I knew it was that guy all along!"

Rusty, having jumped at the sudden exclamation, placed a hand across his chest. "Jesus... "

Brock side eyed him sheepishly. "Sorry."

The show went to commercial and the bodyguard turned to him. "Hey... you hungry? I'm thinkin' about making popcorn."

The scientist smiled at his friend. "Yeah, I could go for some popcorn. But make sure you use the stove popcorn. I don't want to pay the price with my health because you insist on using those cancer covered microwavable bags!"

Brock stood up and began making his way towards their kitchen ignoring Rusty's continued talking and now slight yelling in an effort for him to still hear him.

"And make sure to use the new seasonings I just picked up. There's the cheese one, the garlic, the pizza one... oh, but don't put too much, Brock. Brock?"

The microwave sounded a series of beeps as he began heating up a microwave bag of popcorn, intentionally ignoring the man's instructions.

"Oh and Brock? Could you bring me a soda? The ones in the fridge? And make sure it's the purple one not the green one? Brock?" Rusty continued calling out from his seat in the living room, eyes glued to the TV.

The bodyguard returned soon, bowl of popcorn in hand and the correct soda he had been asking for. He shoved both into the hands of the scientist and grabbed the remote from him to turn up the volume now that the show was back on.

Rusty munched on the popcorn noisily. "I don't know why Scully puts up with this. Mulder is clearly out of his mind, dragging her all over the place! It's ridiculous!"

Brock arched his brow. "What?! You don't think Mulder knows what he's doing?"

"Of course not! He's a lunatic!"

"He's got to be thorough. He has a hunch about something and he goes after it. It's investigation and field work. That's how it's done." Brock muttered, matter of factly, his eyes glued to the TV screen still.

The older man rolled his eyes and popped open his soda. "Yeah, okay... 'field work'. There's no such thing as aliens. That's science fiction!"

Brock gave him a disdainful look. "You're telling me that there's no such thing as aliens when you've seen crazy, octopus headed evil doers with sharks with laser eyes?! Really?!"

Rusty smirked at the man's clear love and devotion for the sci-fi show and tried to hide it with a mouth full of popcorn.

Brock grabbed a handful out of the large bowl for himself and Rusty tried not to blush too much when their hands accidentally brushed. This was heaven. It was almost like... almost like nothing had changed. Years hadn't passed and they were still back there on that same couch, in their home on the compound. He felt five years younger.

A few more moments of silence passed between them as they became more and more immersed in the show's action and dialogue as it began to wrap up it's first parter, the second coming on right away as soon as credits rolled.

The night grew late and before either had noticed it had passed 12:30am. The network had been running a special marathon of episodes and Brock being enamored with the show, just couldn't look away. 

Rusty checked his communicator watch. "Wow."

"What?" Brock said sipping at his soda.

"It's... after midnight."

"Huh." The bodyguard uttered, a little shocked at how easily time had slipped by without them noticing.

“Maybe I should call the boys? Make sure they're okay?” Rusty shrugged, a little uneasy.

“Yeah, and I should uh... do a rounds downstairs, you know? Maybe check the front desk and doors and all that.”

The two sat quietly, neither moving to do either of the tasks.

After a moment, Rusty smiled at the younger man. "One more, first?"

Brock smirked and stood up from the couch. "I'll make some more popcorn!"


	3. Chapter 3

When newspapers and tabloids across the country begin speculating about Rusty's new bodyguard, he's surprised to learn that Brock doesn't care all that much, even when he realizes the implications they are suggesting.

“But just look at what they're printing about us!” Rusty cried incredulously, whacking the paper with his hand before throwing it down on their kitchen table.

Brock sipped his coffee disinterestedly. “Mm-hmm.”

“I mean... they're really bold here... “

“Mm.”

“They're just... invading our privacy!”

“Right.”

“Do you not care at all?!” Rusty screeched, his voice taking on a higher octave than usual.

Hank stifled his giggles behind his hand earning a glare from his father. Dean simply looked on, still half asleep.

Brock set down his mug on the table and looked at the man. “Why do you care what people say about you? They don't even know you.”

“Because... they're... making stuff up!”

“Yeah, who cares?”

Brock went back to his coffee and Rusty watched as Hank continued eating his cereal and Dean laid his head down on the table to “rest his eyes”. No one seemed to think it was a big deal that the tabloids were obsessed with his “new gay lover”. Rusty contemplated the idea of Brock being okay with the label, after all they had their past together and had done more than just kiss and hold hands. Their past was filled with nights of passion but that was all long gone now, right?

Rusty smirked at the younger man.

“What, Doc?” Brock asked, cocking an eyebrow at him. When he didn't answer, he asked him again.

“Oh, nothing.”

A smug Rusty was never a good thing but he didn't push the issue. It was still too early in the morning for arguments.

…

“What's your biggest 'what if'?”

“'Scuse me?” The super scientist stuttered out.

Rusty had looked over at the man with incredulity and scorn readily placed on his tongue. Byron Orpheus had recently contacted them, asking to come visit since it had been quite a while since they'd visited. Their departure from one another had been due to unfortunate events and the parting had been less than amicable. But that was all water under the bridge now.

A brilliantly red, male cardinal landed just then on of the tree branches before them. Rusty was taken back by it's beauty for the second that it stayed there before flying off to some other rooftop. He then turned back to his old friend.

Orpheus simply shrugged, not one to be startled by the super scientist's brash way of conversing. “I'm asking what you've always wanted to do but have never had a chance. You know, this new lifestyle of yours affords you many new opportunities, you may want to explore them.”

They were currently standing out on his porch, high atop the skyline of tall, luxury buildings near Columbus Circle. Rusty was having his standard coffee, with regular coffee beans thank you very much whereas Orpheus had insisted upon some gross herbal tea.

At the implication of the statement, Rusty rolled his eyes, chuckling. “Again, Orpheus, I am flattered. Really I am! But you are so not my type.” He was used to the man lusting after him, my god, it was getting embarrassing!

The necromancer sent a glare in his direction just as his son Hank emerged from inside, still dressed in his sleepwear. He yawned, covering his mouth with one hand while he stretched out the other. Both men turned to look at him upon approach.

“Good morning. And just what entitles you to the idea that you can sleep in till... “ Rusty checked his watch. “11am?”

The blonde cocked an eyebrow and brazenly responded, “Because I didn't get off until 3am?”

Orpheus chuckled into his tea as Rusty gaped at his son. “Just what are they thinking?! Making my son work so long into the late night hours?!”

“It's fine, pop. They pay me well.” Hank seemed as though he could care less about the late hours really.

“Nonsense, you tell that boss of yours that he's not to keep you past midnight!”

Hank scoffed up at his father. “But pop, we don't even stop deliveries until midnight!”

Orpheus smiled behind his mug of tea at the rare sighting of a loving, caring Mr. Venture. It was a rare spotting indeed. Perhaps, this move had been good for them all.

…

The statement had seemed to come out of nowhere, hung in the air like some ghostly presence begging for the blonde's attention.

Brock began to laugh, almost doubling over at his post at the kitchen counter. Rusty glared at him from his seat at their table.

“Just what is so funny?”

“So... let me get this straight, Doc. You think your life needs more excitement? You're... bored?”

“Yes. That's right!”

The bodyguard grabbed his soda can from the counter and came to sit down next to the super scientist. He took a deep breath before looking deep into the bespectacled man's eyes. “You do realize that you went from broke to billionaire in a matter of months this year. You're also now the CEO of a Fortune 500 company whereas earlier in the year you had been unemployed for... how long again?”

Rusty scoffed. “Excuse me? I've never been unemployed!” How dare he.

Brock cocked an eyebrow at the man.

“I haven't! I'm an entrepreneur! I take jobs as I see fit.”

“You mean a freelancer?”

“Right. Whatever.”

“Because those are two different-”

Rusty interrupted him with a hand to his face. “Look, the point is, I... need some excitement. I don't want to just sit up here in this tower and do nothing.”

Brock sipped at his cola for a second, letting it all sink in. “So, you want to go out and do something that takes guts. You want to take a risk.”

“Right!”

“Absolutely not.”

“What?! Why not?”

The blonde stared at the man in incredulity. “You're kidding me right? You're a wanted man, Doc. I've had to fend off so many attacks in just the last few months.”

“Yeah, but that Blue Morpho guy hasn't even made an appearance lately!”

“Still, Doc. I gotta protect you, you know that.”

The older man smiled, his heart beating faster as he let the man's worry sink in. “I know, you're a big softhearted teddy bear when it comes to me.”

“Yeah, that's it.” Brock muttered, downing his soda.

Rusty grinned at the man before going over to their fridge to get himself an ice cold soda. “Well, not to worry. I won't get myself into too much trouble. I just want to go out, that's all.”

“Fine. Get your coat.” Brock said, standing up to head towards the elevator.

“Wait... what?”

“I said get your coat. It's cold out there. The weather app on my phone says it's gonna get down to thirty tonight so... y'know.”

Rusty smiled shyly at the man. “Wait... I mean, you want to go out with me?” His heart began to flutter pleasantly.

“Yeah, why not? We could get a bite to eat.” Brock shrugged uncomfortably and glanced everywhere but at the older man's face. “I dunno... maybe see a show?” Why was he making this such a big deal?

“You big softie!” Rusty said, scampering past him giddily.

…

Gently applying the paper face mask over his face, he then settled down into a nice bath. “Computer, set a timer for 10 minutes. No, wait... “ 

He paused, reconsidering the recommended time the product stated for use. “Better make it 25 minutes.”

His watch beeped twice and spoke out loud, “Setting a timer for 25 minutes.”

Sinking down into the warm water, Rusty laid his head back to relax.

Several moments later, he awoke to his communicator blaring loudly at him that the time was in fact up. He had fallen asleep in the tub. God, he was getting old.

Draining the water from the bath tub, he stood and wrapped himself in a fluffy white towel, making his way over to the mirror. Gently he began peeling the nearly dry paper mask off his face. Perhaps he'd gone over board with the amount of time it required.

Discarding it in the trash bin behind him, he took a look at the results. His face had a rather large outline of red flushed skin, showing just where the mask had laid across his features.

“AAH!” He shouted as he jumped back at his reflection in shock,

Come to think of it, his skin did feel itchy... and tight. And kind of like burning.

“Ohhhhhh... kay?” He muttered as he examined his skin in the mirror. 

Stumbling out into the hallway, he made his way to his room to put on his pajama pants and house slippers. Then he made his way down the stairs to seek out his family. He found Dean on the couch, flipping through T.V. channels.

“Dean, do you think there was a problem with daddy's face mask?” 

The brunette took his time turning around to face his father but when he did, he yelped in surprise and shock.

His face looked like a tomato. A big, round, juicy tomato.

“Is it bad?” Rusty asked, biting his lip in worry.

“Uh... “ Dean mumbled, unsure of what to say, his eyes darting around the room.

“Okay, do me a favor. Google 'face mask, irritation.'”

The twin stared down at his jPhone for a moment, scrolling through results. “It just says if you have irritation not to use it again.”

“Well, duh. I mean, what do I do now?”

Dean glanced up at him. “You could try scrubbing it off.”

“There's... there's nothing to scrub off! I mean, it all soaked in. It's done.”

“Well, how long did it say to keep it on?!” The teen asked in that curious, high pitched tone he often used when panicking.

Rusty shrugged. “I don't know! I had it on for like a half hour. I think it said ten minutes maybe? God! It burns!”

“Well, that's why. You should've followed the directions, Pop!”

“Look, I don't need your nagging right now. My skin's about to fall off!” He complained as he once again, climbed the stairs back up to the bathroom.

Rusty rushed into the room and set his glasses aside on the counter. He began splashing cold water on his face in an effort to stop the burning which was now turning into severe itching. This was the last thing he needed. Good god, didn't he have enough problems?!

After he was finished and had patted his tender skin dry, he began to notice some improvement. Heading back downstairs, he decided it was getting late and he was hungry. He should grab a quick snack before getting ready to retire for bed.

He was stopped by Dean along the way. “Why are you even using one of those?” He asked him.

Rusty rolled his eyes, grabbing a bottle of water from their fridge. “Because Dean, daddy can't look young forever. He has to work at it.”

Dean pulled a face from behind him. “Well, I don't think that's going to work for you.”

Rusty faced him as he unscrewed the cap and began drinking the water. “Oh?”

“I mean, you don't need any of that stuff. Whatever happened to aging gracefully?”

Rusty nearly spat out his water but took the extra seconds to swallow it instead. “Excuse me? Are you saying I'm old?!”

“Well... “

“Well what? You know, it's taken a lot out of me to raise you boys and you don't even appreciate it! All the things I do for you all!”

Dean looked pensive. “I know... “

Grabbing a pudding from inside the fridge and then a spoon, he began making his way out of the kitchen with his son in tow. “You know, life hasn't always been so easy for me. I'm not getting any younger.”

“I know... “

Rusty paused at the foot of the stairs to face the boy. “Dean, I love you. Don't stay up too late.”

And then he reached over and hugged him, giving him a kiss on the cheek and heading upstairs.

The brunette stared up at his father as he disappeared up the stairs. A moment later, he smiled, happy his father was happy and went back to watching some T.V.

...

He fumbled with the heavy wine glass, smirking at the delicious liquid it contained inside.

He was feeling tingly all over and relaxed as he sunk down deeper into the couch cushions. He was relishing the fact that his boys were out on the town tonight, that Hatred was keeping a careful, chaperoned eye on them. There was just one thing missing from this empty penthouse and from the sound of the elevator chiming down the hall, that was about to change.

Brock Samson came trudging around the corner looking pretty tired but upon seeing the super scientist, changed his trajectory from the stairs to the living room instead.

"Wine makes me feel tingly!" Rusty said giggling as he nearly fell off the couch, drunk again on his favorite new “healthy” habit.

"Whoa... okay! Let's get you back right side up." The taller man responded, helping him sit back up.

Rusty looked up deep into the man's eyes. “Where 're you?”

Smirking at the cute and yet still disturbing way the man was slurring his words, Brock placed an arm around his shoulders. “I was out talking to Wariana about some things.”

At the very mention of the woman's name, Rusty frowned and clammed up. Brock moved his arm to try to massage his rock hard shoulders. “I see. Well, how's y'ur girlfri'nd doing, anyway?”

“She's not my girlfriend! Anymore... anyway.”

“Wha?”

Brock stood up and tried to help Rusty to his feet so they could go upstairs. “C'mon, it's late. Let's get you to bed. I'll tell ya about it tomorrow.”

Rusty stumbled a bit, falling into the man's arms, though he wasn't entirely sure it was unintentional on the super scientist's part. He smiled down at the man he'd loved for at least 20+ years. “Doc, you should really watch the alcohol.”

“You... should.” Rusty replied lamely into the wide, barrel chest Brock had, clinging to his black t-shirt as he began to nod off. The warmth was comforting and began to make him sleepy.

“C'mon you.”

They headed upstairs together.


	4. Chapter 4

The temperature had dropped last night to just below freezing, making the windows in the early morning light become foggy, the view slightly obscured.

Cracking open the bottle of tylenol on the counter, Thaddeus S. Venture was struggling this morning with a massive hangover, yet again. Brock watched from the kitchen table, a small smile on his lips hidden behind his coffee mug.

Downing the two pills and an entire glass of water, the super scientist sagged against the kitchen island and covered his eyes with his hands.

“You alright?” Brock asked, still grinning.

“Mm... “ Was the only response he received.

The blonde turned to peer out their window at the blinding sunlight. It had gotten cold and the little bit of precipitation they'd received seemed to have created tiny icicles along the border of the windows.

Rusty moved to sit beside the younger man and stare miserably at the table top. “I think I'm dying.”

“You're not dying, you just need to give drinking a break.” Brock sipped at his coffee and glanced at the man again. “Where's your coffee?”

“Oh fuck.” He muttered as if just remembering. Glancing back over his shoulder longingly, his mind began to do the math to figure out if getting back up was worth it. He needn't worry.

“I got it.” Brock patted his shoulder as he stood up to retrieve it from the counter.

Setting the mug down in front of him, he smirked at the disheveled image of the man. Glasses askew, pajamas buttoned together incorrectly, he looked... cute.

“What?” Rusty muttered, his eyes squinting together in a suspicious nature.

“Nothing! Just... you look... cute.”

“What?!”

“Yeah.” Brock smirked, satisfied with his statement as he sipped more of his coffee out of his bright orange mug.

“Well... thank you.” The bespectacled man sipped at his own coffee, somewhat taken back from his friend's compliment.

Was he his friend? Or his bodyguard now? His lover? No, that hadn't been true for a long time. This was all very confusing and to be honest, he didn't really feel like trying to figure it all out now on this cold january morning. So for now he'd just call him... Brock.

They sat there quietly enjoying the morning until two sleepy twins made their way downstairs for cereal. From then on, the conversation turned to university and why Batman was absolutely the best superhero there ever was.

They didn't argue this point with Hank. Not one bit.

…

It's 7:08pm on a friday night and Thaddeus S. “Rusty” Venture is drunk off his ass but what else is new?

He's sitting there, staring out the window in their kitchen, staring down towards the street. Okay, his face is pressed against the glass, his forehead stuck like a suction cup against it. He's watching the people below and they look like ants. Ants.

The sunlight dancing across the leaves of a nearby tree below is beautiful as it cascades across, shining brilliantly, on its way down to the sidewalk and street. His breath is hot as it begins to fog up the glass and it is in this position that his eldest son finds him in as he enters the kitchen.

“Pop?” Hank asks, cocking an eyebrow.

As Rusty turns clumsily in the bench to face him, he notices he's in his pizza boy outfit for work. Feeling his mouth growing drier by the second, he mumbled a response.

“Mmm?”

“Are you okay?” The blonde asked hesitantly.

Rusty heaved a deep sigh, as though he were put upon but it seemed completely out of place in this scenario before him. Struggling to crawl around the table and out to the side to his feet, he stumbled across the kitchen to his son and draped a loose arm around his shoulders. “Hank... I am more than okay. I am... great... “

Hank struggled for a moment under the heavy weight but quickly recovered and gave him a nervous smile. “Okay... uh, great. Well, I have to get to work so... “

Rusty nodded sleepily and let watched his son go, already feeling like he needed to sit back down. As the elevator dinged signifying Hank had left the penthouse, the super scientist sank back down into the end of the booth.

He considered heading back to the bar in the living room to get another mojito. Just then, the abject of his affection, his long time crush and bodyguard, entered the room and the look on his face was priceless.

Brock had stopped short and was staring at the bald man in frustration. “What the fuck?”

Rusty blinked at him blearily, feeling like his heart was going to beat out of his chest. He took a deep breath and sank down more against the red bench. “B-Brock... hi.”

He smiled lazily as he gazed up at the tall man. Brock was glaring down at him disappointingly. “Doc... are you wasted? The sun's literally still up.”

He gestured toward the window behind the man in irritation. “I mean, what are ya doin', Doc? Seriously. Are you okay?”

Rusty felt angry now. Red, hot, burning anger seared up inside of him as he pulled himself fully up to a sitting position. “Why does everyone keep asking me that? I'm fine!”

As if to prove his point, he struggled up to his feet, using the kitchen table as a brace to help himself stay standing. He stared up at Brock's face with a look of determination and a bit of bitterness.

Brock frowned, anger forgotten and replaced now with a sort of worry and sadness. “Doc... I'm just... I'm worried about ya is all.”

“It's the weekend, Brock. Geez. Get a life.” Rusty said jokingly, trying to lighten up the mood of the room. A thought floated up from the back of his mind, questioning whether they were alone in the house or if his youngest son were still at home as well.

The blonde man ran a hand over his face, dragging it down harshly across the skin. He was tired of this. He was so very tired of all of this. The man had been doing this a lot lately, drinking and sulking, but why? What on earth had happened to the man to cause him the need to sulk?

He had everything now. Money, power, a beautiful house, high above in New York's skyline. It was beautiful here.

So why the hell was he wasting away his days drinking? He'd been letting the Pirate manage the company, for the most part. He'd allowed him to hire back all the people he'd fired, well, those who agreed to come back.

And the Pirate Captain seemed to be well fit for the job, flourishing in the role. He really enjoyed the work, which was good because Rusty was no longer well enough to actually do it.

Rusty peered at the man, a hint of a smile playing on his face as he reached a hand up to gently brush against the man's face. Half expecting the bodyguard to shrug his touch off, he was pleasantly surprised when the man went still, his eyes just focusing on his bespectacled own.

“My bodyguard, my savior. You are... really important to me, Brock. Did you know that?”

Brock frowned again. “You're drunk, Doc.”

“And you're sexy.”

The super scientist was slurring his words, that became more and more apparent as each minute ticked on. He pulled his hands away, moving to walk towards the living room. Turning to glance over his shoulder at the younger man, he coyly smiled. “We should go upstairs.”

…

“These are my best pajamas.” Rusty complained, after having emptied his entire stomach into the toilet bowl. 

“Well, it's your own fault, Doc.” Brock said as he stood leaning against the door frame. “You shouldn't be drinking, not when you've had problems with addiction in the past.”

Rusty chuckled, beginning to feel a bit more sober. “Well, I gave up trying to listen to you years ago.” 

“You shouldn't drink.”

The statement hung in the air, choking the both of them with the seriousness of the situation and the “doctor” stared at the ivory of the toilet before him in an effort to not lose control of his anger. “I just... feel like I need to relax sometimes, okay?”

Brock didn't say anything and he had to turn around to check if he was even still standing there. He was, surprisingly. 

The man licked his lips and crossed his arms over his chest. “I'm sorry you feel that you need it.”

“I don't need it!”

“Then stop.”

Rusty rolled his eyes and got to his feet shakily, the larger man quickly stepping closer in case his strong arms and steady core were needed. He smiled gratefully, sheepishly at him and the man rolled his eyes and stepped back once more.

He followed the bodyguard out into the hall, the two pausing there as if unsure where to go next.

It was then he remembered, with embarrassment, his flirty statements to the man. “Look, Brock-” But he was cut off.

“Doc, I want you to know I care about you. I wanted to talk to you about... some things. Maybe we should just wait till the morning.”

“What? No! I'm... I'm fine now, Brock. Really.”

The blonde stared into his eyes for a moment, looking very unsure so Rusty touched his arm gently as if guiding him back towards the stairs. “C'mon. Let's go downstairs. We can talk.”

After a moment's hesitation, he allowed himself to be led back the way they'd came.

…

Sitting outside around the well-lit pool, it occurred to Brock that this might not be the best idea on a january night, what with the sun already down. This was New York and it was cold most days but the nights? Nights were hell.

He glanced at the bespectacled man and the overly large coat he was adorning. They were both bundled up pretty well. They should probably just go inside but Rusty was convinced that sitting out here beneath the stars or star technically, was the best place for the conversation. A moment of silence later, Brock realized he was waiting for him to start and so he sat up a little straighter in the deck chair.

“Uh... I just wanted to tell you that... I broke up with Wariana.”

Rusty seemed surprised, gaping at him at first before trying to cover it up. “Oh. I see.”

Brock bit his lip, struggling with how to continue. He stared at the man until he met his eyes fully. “I know... you probably don't care or anything. But I wanted to tell you, wanted to talk to you about it because... “

A moment passed between them as they stared at one another, the cold winds around them circling.

The blonde continued. “Doc, I just... I want us to get back what we lost before. I know, I know, it was my fault. It was. I get that but... I want to try... try again, you know?”

And the man's jaw came unhinged again. Rusty struggled to shut his mouth once more, too shocked at the statements coming from the bodyguard to actually react. But he straightened up in his seat and tried to save face, affecting a very stoic look. “I see.”

Brows furrowing together in a nervous sort of glance, Brock frowned. “Do... do you? Want to try, I mean?”

Rusty turned and let his focus turn across the way towards the tower in the distance. It was the residence of not only some of his enemies but one primary rival in particular, Wariana. The man had said they were over and this in itself was shocking. After all, why would he want to throw away such a thing? But maybe, maybe he did miss him, maybe he missed... what they were.

When he glanced back at the burly man, he noticed how soft his eyes had gotten. Was it due to the gentle conversation they were having or had they been that way for a while? Was it due to age or strife over the years?

Rusty took in the small wrinkles around the man's eyes. They were barely noticeable but definitely there for those that looked. Brock was aging, had aged alongside him though he still had many years on him. Time was a hell of a thing, he supposed.

Staring down at his hands, folded neatly in his lap, the super scientist somehow found his voice. “I'd like to try, yes.”

Brock no longer looked vulnerable, his whole face alight with happiness now as a grin broke out on his face. “That's... that's great, Doc!”

And soon Rusty found himself beaming as well. He made a stumbling sort of move to lean closer to the man, all while not getting up from his seat. The action, in all it's awkwardness led to them both almost falling over.

So after a moment, they both stood up instead and it was Brock for once who came closer to embrace him. Relaxing into the warm hug, feeling secure beneath those huge, muscular arms, Rusty let his eyes slip shut, his nose buried in the fabric of the large, black wool coat.

“I love you... you know.”

It took a second longer than it should for the words to register in Rusty's brain but when they did, his heart felt like it might explode in his chest. 

He stammered. “I... uh, what?”

Brock's chest rumbled with light laughter. “Uh... I said, I said I love you.”

Pulling back from the embrace, he stared up at the man in shock before grinning like a mad man. “I love you too.”


	5. Chapter 5

Morning light seeping in to the room, peeking around the corners of the super scientist's curtains, a very sleepy man finally opened his eyes as he came to consciousness. He'd been fighting the light for too long but he was finally awake now, having slept in for once.

Rusty shrugged off the warmth of the covers of his bed to reach over and pick up his vPhone from the nightstand. It was blinking with a small, bright blue light indicating he had received a text message hours before.

Eyes reading over the message, a small smile came to rest upon his face.

[Brock: Good morning! Hope you slept well. I'll be back soon.] 8:26am

Rusty yawned and set the phone back down on his nightstand. It was a little after 10am already, probably about time to get up on this sleepy, Saturday morning.

…

Brushing his teeth as he stared at his reflection in the bathroom mirror, Rusty barely had time to turn around at the commotion at his bedroom door to find Brock entering the room.

“Hey.” Was all the six-foot-four man said as he took in the image before him.

Rusty, still dressed in his pajamas, mumbled an incoherent reply, lips moving around the toothbrush placed in his mouth, the foam of the toothpaste going everywhere.

“Yeah uh, that was barely a sentence, Doc.”

“I said, where were you?” He emphasized more clearly.

The blonde's eyes lit up in recognition. “Oh, uh, yeah I had this impromptu meeting. Actually, I wanted to talk to ya about that. See-”

Hank entered the bedroom then, flustered and nearly turning red. “Pop! Dean is messing with my relationship and I won't have it! That dog won't hunt, I tell you!”

The bodyguard turned to regard the oldest Venture while Rusty went to spit out the toothpaste in the sink. “Come again?”

“Brock! Dean is threatening to show Sirena my Shallow Gravy music video!”

Rusty joined the two of them in the bedroom again. Brock crossed his arms over his chest, obviously over the siblings near constant fighting. “And what did you do to make him retaliate with this?”

“What? Nothing! I am an innocent!”

The super scientist barked with laughter. “Yeah, right.”

Brock glared at the blonde until he pouted. “Okay, fine! I might have told Jared about how he used to sleep with Mr. Reachy but that was only because Dean was making fun of me with him!”

The muscular man rolled his eyes and began to push him out of the room. “Alright, alright. Let's go handle this. Come on!”

“Wait, wait wait! What about the news you had?” Rusty asked, hands on his pajama-clad hips in irritation that they'd been interrupted.

“Oh, uh, well we'll talk later.” Brock assured him before making his way downstairs with Hank.

…

It's hours before Brock arrives back home and Rusty is actually more relieved than he'd like to admit. Having tried to pass the time with mindless TV watching and finding nothing of interest, he'd almost been tempted to just start day drinking to cure the boredom.

As Brock entered from the elevator, the older man titled his head back to glance up from his place on the couch. Standing to greet him, he made his way slowly over to the muscular bodyguard.

“So... that took a while.”

“Yeah. Ridiculous.” Brock shrugged, hands in his jean pockets as they stood in an amicable sort of silence. He noticed how the “doctor” was sort of dancing from one side to the other. “The hell you doin'?”

“I'm cold!” Rusty shrugged, arms coming up to cross over his chest.

Brock gave him a scrutinizing look before heading towards the thermostat. “Then turn the heat up! The hell is wrong with you?”

“I'm not made of money, ya know!”

“You're literally made of millions... “ The blonde grumbled under his breath, adjusting the heat to turn on and warm up the semi-chilly penthouse.

When he turned back to the man, he found he'd gone back to the couch to cover himself up with soft blankets. Rusty turned his head to look behind him again, his eyes questioning something he'd dare not speak, an invitation for him to sit, to which he obliged.

Brock smirked when the man adjusted the various blankets to share with him and soon they both settled beneath them, arms and elbows brushing just slightly as they sat nearly glued together staring at the TV screen.

“What is this?” Brock asked, brows pinched together at the scene before them.

“I dunno. Some infomercial for a kitchen gadget I think. Y'see it turns vegetables into noodles... or something.”

“You hate vegetables.”

“Meh.” The man shrugged neither agreeing nor disagreeing and didn't move to change the channel.

After a moment, Brock turned to him, only troubled slightly by the tight blankets surrounding them. “Hey, look, I wanted to tell ya about the news I got from Hunter this morning. Ya know, at the meeting?”

Rusty was all ears, now ignoring the “As Seen On TV” commercial entirely.

“So, Hunter found out that there's this temple down in South America, right? And, for years and years, the O.S.I. has been trying to get down there to investigate these markings inside it.”

“Okay...? “

Brock grinned, eyes alight with passion and energy, seeming to be brimming with excitement. “So Hunter was able to obtain the permits for us to go down there, well for me to go down there anyway and-”

“Wait... what?” The balding man blinked rapidly as he grimaced. “What are you talking about?”

“I get to go down there for a few months and try to decipher it. Well, I mean, I'm gonna have someone there with me that actually knows what this shit says 'cause, let's be honest, I'm useless when it comes to these dead languages.” The man continued babbling on but the words seemed lost on Rusty entirely. Brock's voice beginning to fade away from him as the pitch and tone all at once became just one ear piercing, shattering sound.

Rusty threw off the blankets and got to his feet, feeling a sudden hotness emanating throughout his chest and body as anger filled his every being. “What?!”

Brock stared up at him, taken back by the eruption. “Uh... what?” The man was not reacting how he thought he would.

“You're telling me that after all this, after our conversations together especially the last few days, you're... you're just gonna go then?!”

“Wha-?”

“Yeah! Yeah, that's what you're saying, right?! You're... you're leaving.”

The bodyguard got to his feet as well, mimicking the man's stance as he stared carefully down into his brown eyes. “Doc... you're overreacting. I'm just... I'm trying to tell you about this temple, this mission is just-”

“Oh, I see! It's just another mission. Right! My mistake. What am I getting so upset about? It's just your job!”

He headed away from him, towards the kitchen, desperate to distract himself from the panic being set off inside of him, a wildfire of emotions. He settled with pouring himself a glass of orange juice, despite not being even a little thirsty.

Brock was on his heel in an instant though not angry, not in the slightest, more so confused and a little bit worried. “Doc... why are you getting so upset? I thought... I thought you'd find it interesting.”

There was a long pause between them, a silence that loomed in the air, the only sound being from the heating system that had kicked over to warm their home. Rusty's mouth grew dry with the realization that Brock had indeed said “months”. He'd be gone for months. Not a visit. Months. 

'He's leaving again and he's not coming back this time.' he thought, downing his juice in one gulp and slamming it down on the marble counter top.

Brock took a deep breath in through his nose and let it out slowly. He stepped closer to the man, then stopped halfway as if losing his confidence. “Look, why don't we order some thai food for dinner and talk about this?”

The man looked up at him then and seeming to consider the offer for a moment, shrugged and took a deep breath in himself. He then shook his head slowly, eyes averted down to their highly polished floors. “No, Brock. I think... I think I just need some time to think.”

And with that, he headed towards the elevator and left.

...

[Venture: come home... ] 9:17pm

Brock had received the text message while anxiously walking up and down Central Park West. It was a pretty place, this city, and he had really made an effort lately to get out and see more of it. At the present moment however, he couldn't really see anything through the haze of the dramatics of his relationship and the bitterness surrounding the whole argument from earlier. 

He had waited for the man to return for an hour or so before giving up and leaving himself. Out of all the possibilities the day had held, the very last thing he thought he'd be doing today was fighting with one stubborn super scientist. He really had expected a more positive reaction to the news. He should have known better.

Brock entered VenTech Tower to find the first floor empty, the security desk vacant of Hatred who had been perched there just hours before. He took the elevator up to their penthouse floor musing about just what he was walking into. As the doors whooshed open, he found all of the lights on but the house deadly silent.

Rusty poked his head out around the corner from the his place in the kitchen. “Brock.” He said quietly, as if surprised to see the man he'd just beckoned to come home. 

As he made his way over to the man, he sniffed the air in complete confusion. “You cookin' somethin'?”

Rusty headed back over to the stove allowing Brock to see the pot he was standing over. What a weird turn of events. Wait... was he going to poison him?

The man turned around with a sheepish smile on his face, a look of near nervousness playing across it. “I know I'm not the best cook, not as good as you, but I wanted to make it up to you. I made us dinner. A soup, well, a stew... I guess it's a stew. It's uh... it's kinda both?”

Brock chuckled, a deep rumbling traveling through his chest as he grinned at the shorter man. “Smells delicious. But you don't have anything to apologize for.” He insisted.

“Yes I do.” The man quietly responded, his back still to him.

He then motioned at Brock to take a seat at the table which had been adorned with a tablecloth and two long necked candles. Rusty dimmed the lights above as he lit aflame each candlestick. Doling out soup into two bowls, he set them down on the table before taking a seat across from the man.

There was a palpable silence filling the air, an unsure Thaddeus Venture and his hesitant bodyguard.

“Look Doc-” The man began only to be cut off by Rusty.

“No, no. Look... I'm sorry, Brock. I want you to know that... you should go.” He said in a quiet voice, keeping his eyes firmly on the bowl of soup before him, the fragile, white china gleaming in the candlelight.

“Doc... “

“I want you to be happy and you should do whatever it is that makes you happy. I understand that you have needs and... it's important for you to go so... go.” Rusty swallowed nervously, raising his brown eyes to meet Brock's own. “I don't own you, I'm not even really your employer. That's... that's silly, of course I'm not. Like, really? But, you know what I mean, you're not my bodyguard anymore. You're not... mine.”

Running a hand down over his face in aggravation more at the situation than at the man himself, Brock sighed deeply. “Doc, I... I don't want to do this. This whole thing is... this isn't us.” He gestured around at the environment, at the soup. “This is weird and maybe someone else's life but it's not ours. We aren't these people.”

Rusty smirked a little and shrugged, his eyes falling on the bowls before them. “I tried. It's kinda pumpkin-y and I don't know why? I didn't use any pumpkin!”

The two men burst out laughing then, unable to gain control over the overreaction in the moment, the sudden absurdity that had taken over. When they'd recovered a little, Brock took a spoonful of the vegetable mix and swallowed it. “It's... got a bit of a pumpkin taste, yeah.” He grinned.

Rusty lowered his gaze with a small smile on his lips as he tried a bit more of his own.

“Where are the boys?”

“They went out with Hatred for the night. I think to the movies? Not really sure. I just wanted the house empty so... so I could talk to you. Apologize.” He shrugged, growing morose once more.

“You got nothin' to apologize for, Doc! I... you're right, I said I wasn't gonna leave again and... and here I am planning this trip. “ His words fell silent as he lost any semblance of a coherent thought just thinking about the implications of leaving his family again. The way the boys would feel, hell the most important thing, the way the man in front of him felt.

He looked up to see Rusty sitting there placidly. The man met his gaze but said nothing and so Brock stood up, meal forgotten, only one thing on his mind. He approached him, took his hand and pulled him to his feet. “Doc, I don't want another year to go by without letting you know just how important you are to me. I mean, fully letting you know... I... ”

He swallowed nervously as Rusty stared up into his eyes looking hopeful. 

“I'm not gonna go. I don't ever want to make you feel like you're less important to me because of work or my job or anything. Because it's just not true, Doc.”

Suddenly feeling brave, the shorter man surged forward, up on tip-toes to plant a kiss on the man's lips. Brock kissed him back immediately and moved his arms around to encircle him, bringing him closer.

As the broke apart but kept their foreheads pressed close together, both men smiled warmly at the other.

“I love you.” Rusty shyly murmured.

“Ditto.”

“Ditto?!”

Brock laughed, pleased at how easily he could annoy the scientist. “I love you too.”


End file.
